Soccer

For those of you that know me, you know that I get injured a lot. But this time, it's really got me down. At least before, I always had the solace that when I recover, I'll get to play soccer again. I'll get to come back as apart of a team. But this time, I don't have a team to come back to. I thought that I could deal with this, but lately it's been hitting me pretty hard. I can't take a walk down chancellors, check my twitter, or pass by the UNCW soccer stadium without being reminded of what was, and what could have been. I see my old teammates on a daily basis, I see my old coaches almost once a week, and I see tweets about hard workouts or pictures of fun pick up games every time I pick up the phone. Of course, I'm thankful to have had the change to meet all my teammates, because those are friends that I never would have made otherwise. But that doesn't make it any easier.

I've found that I can't play in pick up games or go to club soccer practice without getting extremely frustrated and angry. I can't participate in a game where a "good cross" flies over the heads of the forwards when for the past year it's been pounded into my brain that a good cross stays low and driven to the penalty spot. I can't play in a game where a missed tackle can mean a broken foot- not with the intent to injure but lack of skill. I'm tired of pick-up games where the boys never pass it to the girls because they think we're not good players. I just can't play anymore. And that's the worst part.

I used to think that playing injured was tough. That being unable to dribble, pass, run as I once could was devastating. I used to think that the inability to prove myself to my teammates and my coaches was earth-shattering, especially when I knew how good I could be, if only I was healthy. But I was wrong. I mean, at least I was playing. Compared to this, playing injured was a piece of cake.

Soccer is something I love, and it's supposed to be enjoyable. It's not supposed to make me sad, it's supposed to be my release, just as it has been for the past 15 years of my life. Without soccer, without a team, I've found myself extremely lost these past few months. Without my perfect outlet, it's like all my feelings just stay bundled up inside me, making me depressed and easily agitated. When I lost soccer, I lost so much, and I'd do anything to get that back.

But I can't. So what do you do when the thing you've devoted your body and your entire life to is no longer there for you?

love is love

I think that there are a lot of different kinds of love. I mean, obviously there is friend love and there is family love, but I'm talking about relationship-couple-marriage love. For one, I have never believed in such a thing as a 50-50 relationship. I don't think that it's possible for one person to love the other exactly as much as they love them, if that makes any sense. I believe that most relationships are 60-40, and some even closer, like 45-55. But I just don't think there can be a functioning 50-50 relationship. I'll explain later.

Back to my point about different kinds of love. I think there are two "genres", and then many "sub-genres" that can stem from that, because no two types of love are the same. There's the "head-over-heels" in love, and there's the gradual love. This first kind, you immediately know that you're in love with this person, maybe even at first sight. I've had a lot of my friends fall into this kind of love, and most of them are happily married or on the way. I've never personally felt that kind of love, but I've heard it been described (far too many times, if you ask me). I've heard that it feels like the other person consumes your thoughts, day and night. That person can make your day with just a simple smile, or the sound of their voice. That just the thought of them brings a smile to your lips.

The second kind of love is gradual love. This is the kind of love that takes time. These people don't just "fall in love" and never look back. These people tend to have been hurt before. Maybe even they've been the abusers, so they're wary. They're cautious. They want to make sure that both parties are in it for the long run, and they don't just go throwing the L word around like it's nothing. We're planners. We know "love", but we don't know "in-love". We aren't desperate for love, and we're not necessarily looking, so sometimes when we find it, we aren't quick to realize it. It could be in front of our faces for months, years even, before we take notice or action. We know the pain of hurt, and we don't plan on jumping into it all over again. But just because it takes us longer, and we have to work harder at it, doesn't mean we can't love as deep and as perfectly as the head-over-heels lovers.

After all, love is love.

Introductions (...better late than never)

Hello fellow bloggers!

If it isn't painfully obvious just yet...I am new to the blogging world. So I would really appreciate all the tips/feedback I can get, including those specific to google blog as well as about my posts. So, here's me:

I am studying to be a doctor. Yup, a pediatrician to be exact. But my true passion...my true passion is writing. "Creative writing", if you will. I mostly started this blog because I'm tired of saving word documents to my computer and forgetting about them. So you see, it's not about the number of views or shares or whatever you do with blogs for me...it's about expressing my feelings and opinions, whatever they may be. If I knew how, this blog would be private for my eyes only, honestly (maybe help a sister out??). Once, when I expressed my love for writing over my interest in biology, my mother told me "Oh, when you're a doctor, there will be plenty of writing. You'll be writing prescriptions, filling out paperwork...it really is a lot of writing." She either misunderstood or chose to ignore the true meaning of my words. Silly mother.

Now don't get me wrong, I can't wait to be a doctor. I think I'll really love it. But I don't want to lose the part of me that loves to write. Ergo, blog!! Anyways, I suppose you'll be hearing from me soon!!

Sincerely,
Allie

Memories

Do you ever remember 
Something,

And suddenly find it hard

To catch your breath?

Isn’t it crazy how feelings not conjured in months,

Maybe years, come rushing back

So fluidly?

As if it happened yesterday.

College athletes

I remember the days when I could run barefoot from the house, towards a last minute play-date and not have to worry about what kind of shoes to throw on. I didn’t think about how the mechanics of my run would affect my body in the long run. Nor did I wonder how the arch and fit of the shoe would affect my foot, my ankle, my knee. If I would pay for it later that night. How many games I would miss. How many mornings I would wake up aching. I never had to think first. I remember way back, before I ever felt the aches and pains that no nineteen year old should feel, but maybe a thirty or forty year old. But it’s not just me that remembers. This is bigger than just me. Remember?

Remember when Advil was an unwelcome nonessential and not a dietary staple? When taking one or two did the trick? Remember when a pick-up game was a time for fun, not a possibility of getting hurt? Remember when coaches took us out if we were hurting, because they cared more about the players than the win? Remember when doctors were merely acquaintances rather than “see you next month” buddies?

Think back, before the casts, the boot, the crutches, the brace. Remember when surgery wasn’t a quick fix, but a last resort? Remember when it wasn’t something to talk about, but something to work past so later, no one would even know? So no one could tell the difference? Remember when playing outside with our friends was all the exercise we needed? When ADD and ADHD were rare? When physical therapists actually discharged their patients? When we didn’t need to inhale corticosteroids just to breathe? When we were healthier, faster, stronger…happier?


Don’t you remember? My how times have changed.

life is funny.

Life is funny. We grow up yearning for independence- no, not to necessarily grow older, as people commonly misconceive. Nobody wants to grow older. What we want is independence. It’s a pride thing, being able to make it on your own. So growing up, we long for, thirst for, need to break free of that hold upon us. To be independent. After all, independence is strength, right? But then when it comes down to it, all we want is for someone else to make the final decision. For someone else to share in the responsibility- the permanence- whether it be the blame or the exaltation. All our lives, we just don’t want to be alone.

            Then, there is another extreme misconception. Some people associate independence with need, when need and independence are two different species. You can need someone without being dependent on him or her. Being independent is not turning your back on those that care about you. It is not being alone. Being independent is being able to acknowledge those around you without relying on them for your livelihood. You can still have a safety net. Sometimes, you have to learn it the hard way.

Why Me?

Sometimes, I am far to quick to ask myself  “Why me?” Yes, why me…why was it me that had to get knee surgery, ankle surgery, hand surgery? That wrecked my car twice in one month? That can’t seem to catch a break? Why was it me that got so injured that I couldn’t play college soccer anymore? Why are my dreams always the ones that get crushed? 

Really, I should be so thankful for my amazing healthcare. For the sole fact that I don't have to worry if I can even afford so many corrective surgeries. I should think about the things I do have in my life, not the things I miss. Why think “why can’t I play soccer?” instead of “I can’t believe I got the opportunity to play division one soccer". Why is it so hard for us to be positive? How easy society makes it for us to pity ourselves.